Ostrich Girl
by AlaskianCity
Summary: Garsiv/OC After finally excaping the Valley of the Slaves, Amani, a former ostrich girl, joins Prince Garsiv and his cavalry as they pursue the traitor prince Dastan.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my first attempt at a story...eventually this will be a Garsiv/OC fic, but the first chapter is just kind of setting up the plot and the time period and stuff like that. Let me know if you want me to continue! **

Sheik Amar brought the new girl at around noon, instructing the ostrich girls to "get her ready for the races". The girl examined the ostrich girls with cold, pointed eyes, as if they had killed her pet sheep or something of that nature.

Amani felt bad for this girl, of course, for who would want to be an ostrich girl? Serving food and drinks to the dirty gamblers who watched the ostrich races was hardly the kind of job anyone wanted.

"What's your name?" she asked, handing the girl a uniform.

"Tamina." the girl replied sharply. Obviously she was angry; there was no telling how the sheik had acquired her. She might have been traded for a camel or two, or maybe he just found her wandering around the Valley. The ostrich girls were mistreated, and often had to scrounge for the little food that they got. Escape was near to impossible, and even if you did escape, the Valley of the Slaves was surrounded by a vast desert. Still, if Amani was ever going to learn to like Tamina, she'd had better learn to suck it up and be strong.

Amani nodded and told Tamina her name. The distinct whistle sounded that signaled the start of the first race, making Tamina jump. Amani fought back a laugh as she guided Tamina to the gates.

The ostriches zoomed by, their feet thumping along the dirt track. The rest of the girls watched, quietly betting on which bird would win the race, but Amani turned and saw that Tamina was staring up onto one of the many viewing platforms on which Sheik Amar was standing with a guest. Tamina gazed at them with a look of pure hatred. Amani hated the sheik with a passion as well, but looking closely, she saw that Tamina's eyes were not on Amar, they were on his guest.

And that's when it hit her. A few days ago, a messenger had come to the Valley with news of the Persian king's death. The messenger told of how the king was murdered by his own son, Dastan, and how the prince had fled the holy city of Alumat with its princess in tow. The sheik's guest looked exactly like the prince. No, it _was_ the prince; there was no denying his exact resemblance to his wanted poster.

That princess must have been Tamina.

Amani was still pondering this as the gates to the track opened and she, Tamina, and the rest of the ostrich girls proceeded to serve the rowdy viewers of the race. Suddenly, Tamina did something completely unexpected. She opened the gates to the ostrich's pen! The wild birds stormed out, causing most of the girls to run and scream in fright. Amani stood still, frozen against the fence that separated her from the crowd outside. She thought for a second: this was her perfect opportunity for escape.

Amani burst into action, breaking the serving tray she was holding on her knee and turning one of the broken edges as a knife. She spun around, seeing that Seso was already trying to round up the ostrich girls. She took off, running against the stampede of ostriches. Seso had seen her now, and was chasing after her, throwing knife in hand.

Amani needed a distraction. She caught sight of two ostriches with injured legs limping along, trying to catch up with the others. She gripped her makeshift knife and said a silent prayer, hoping that the Gods would forgive her for what she was about to do.

She desperately slit the throats of the two ostriches, causing a stir in the crowd as she ran through an open gate and out of the pack of people and into the open desert. She ran for what seemed like ages and then collapsed from exhaustion on the soft sand, staying perfectly still when she heard the sound of hooves coming towards her. She heard Tamina's voice shout at someone; whom she guessed was the traitor prince Dastan.

"Where are we going? We have to protect the Dagger!"

"We're going to Avrat for the king's funeral. Once I show my uncle the dagger's power, he'll know that I didn't murder my father." the prince replied. Amani thought, had he been framed? She knew that the Persians were just a bunch of tax-giving savages, but she believed that they weren't careless murderers.

Tamina yelled something inaudible as the two rode off. Amani stood up, getting a bearing on her location.

Sand. Nothing but cream-colored sand surrounded her. She could just barely make out the screams from the Valley of Slaves behind her, but she was too far away to see it.

She was free.

And so Amani started walking.

**Um...so yeah. I've got a lot of ideas for this story, but not sure if it's good enought to keep going. Y'all let me know! :) **

**Also, if you want me to continue but there's something you want me to change about the story, please let me know that too! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so this is Chapter 2! I kind of like the way this fic is going so far, but of course, your ideas and comments make all the difference! **

Amani walked for hours, growing more tired and thirsty with every step. She was going to need water soon if she wanted to survive the desert.

The sun was setting behind her, telling Amani that she was headed east. If she kept up through the night, she would reach the city of Avrat by dawn. Thinking about this, Amani realized that Dastan and Tamina were also headed to Avrat. If Amani turned them in, she would be rewarded handsomely. Enough money to buy food, water, and shelter. Easy as that.

Amani mulled over this idea in her head for awhile, keeping up her pace in order to reach the city in time for the king's funeral. She only stopped when she heard the distinct sound of horses trotting towards her.

Turning around, Amani saw a large cavalry of men coming her way. The didn't see her as they approached her, so she had dive out of the way so as not to be run over. "Watch where you're going!" she shouted, catching the attention of the men. They pulled over, surrounding Amani with their horses.

"And what are you doing all alone in the desert, young lady?" asked one man with a gruff, muscular frame and a big bushy beard.

"I'm minding my business, as should you." Amani snapped back, making the horsemen laugh.

"Dressed like that? You're looking for trouble, missy." taunted another man. Amani looked down at her ostrich girl uniform, realizing that the man was right. She couldn't be taken seriously in the revealing garment.

"What's going on?" demanded a voice. To Amani's left, a group of horses parted to let one big, black stallion through. Riding it was a soldier dawning decorative armor and a helmet on his head. He appeared to be the leader of the cavalry.

"Your men seem to find it funny to taunt a young women in the middle the desert!" The rest of the horsemen remained silent. Amani realized that talking like this to the General was probably not the best idea...but she didn't care.

"My men are men, and you are the one foolish enough to strut around the desert dressed this way." the General turned to address his cavalry, "let's move out!"

Amani was glad to see them go before she heard one of the men shout back, "Yes, your highness!" _Of course! _This must be Prince Garsiv of Persia, searching for Dastan and Tamina! She had overheard a messenger telling Sheik Amar all about him. An idea formed in Amani's head.

"Wait!" she shouted as their horses began to walk away. They didn't stop. "I said wait!" she tried again, but to no avail. She jogged alongside the horse of Prince Garsiv. "I know what you're looking for! _I can help you!_" The prince didn't so much as glance down at her.

Turning her head, Amani saw that he rest of the cavalry was snickering at her. She knew that if the cavalry could take her to Avrat as well as give her food and water. This had to work.

"I know where Prince Dastan is going!" at this, Garsiv looked down at her.

"And where would that be?" his eyes were cold, as if she were a piece of garbage trying to tell him a secret.

"Stop your horse, and I'll let you know." He raised his eyebrows, but Amani simply nodded.

Garsiv addressed the cavalry. "Pull over!" He sounded extremely angry, which amused Amani quite a bit.

The prince, as well as the man with the bushy beard, dismounted their horses. "Well?" asked Garsiv, irritated. The man with the beard crossed his arms.

"Let me join your cavalry." insisted Amani, much to the amusement of the horsemen.

"No! You will give me what information you have!" demanded the prince, gripping his sword tightly on its hilt, as if he was ready to chop her in half.

Amani taunted him further. "I know where Prince Dastan is headed, as well as what his plans are once he reaches his destination. Let me join your cavalry and I will tell you everything."

Garsiv began to shake his head, but the man with the beard spoke up. "What's one more soldier? We already have some extra horses from when we lost those men in the storm."

A man mounted on his horse spoke. "Bijan is right, your highness, those two horses are becoming a hindrance."

Garsiv and the man, Bijan, turned back to Amani. "Can you ride?" asked Bijan. His eyes were kind.

She lied. "I've been riding horses all my life." She had actually ridden a horse about five times, and she was decent, at least.

Garsiv sighed. "Fine. But only until we capture Dastan; don't think this makes you a Persian soldier."

Amani smiled triumphantly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

**So there you have it, Amani joins the cavalry! Let me know what you think, along with any ideas and suggestions. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's Chapter 3! I didn't expect the ideas for this story to come to me so fast...but I like it! I'm trying to get these first few chapters out of the way quickly, since they tend to be the most tedious. There's definitely going to be some action sequences pretty soon in the story...perhaps an attack from the Ngbaka? Let's keep that constructive criticism coming! :)**

Bijan led Amani to the back of the cavalry, where two stallions were waiting. "You may choose one." he said politely. Amani examined the horses. One of them was a pale brown, the other a darker shade, but she could care less about the color of her horse. She watched them for a second, one of them trotted in place, lifting its head to the sky.

"That one." Amani said, pointing to the pale brown horse, the energetic one. She prayed silently that this horse would help her to keep up with the rest of the cavalry. Bijan handed her all of the equipment she would need, and within a few minutes Amani was atop the horse. One of the horsemen, a small, feeble man who looked no older than eighteen, told Amani that her new horse's name Arya.

And Arya certainly answered Amani's prayers. She was like dynamite, so eager to be ahead of the cavalry. She instinctively followed the other horses, so Amani didn't have to tell her which way to go. Arya quickly flew to the front of the group, with Amani laughing all the way. She turned her head for a second and saw the rest of the men staring at her disapprovingly. This didn't matter, for they needed her. Only she knew where Dastan was headed.

"Are you ready?"

She turned and saw that Garsiv had come up next to her, his horse about three inches taller than Arya. The prince looked down on Amani, giving her a look of pure superiority. As if he weren't already a filthy Persian. "No, I don't think I'm emotionally prepared just yet. Give me a day and I'll get back to you." she joked, smirking up at Garsiv. He looked just about ready to strangle her.

He was about to say something when Bijan piped up. "Sir, we'd best make camp for the night. These horses are exhausted." Garsiv nodded and the cavalry halted, all of the horsemen dismounting their steeds. Bijan and the young soldier tied up the horses so that they wouldn't run away during the night, and Amani helped the rest of the cavalry set up their makeshift tents. After this was done, they made a fire. The entire cavalry sat down around it except for Garsiv, who stood above Amani, looking down on her again as she sat. "Tell me now." he demanded.

Amani stood, realizing that he was still about an inch taller than her. She got up on her tip-toes, wanting to be on equal ground with him. "Dastan is taking Princess Tamina of Alumat to Avrat for the kings funeral." This made Garsiv waver. His eyes, for a split second, went from cruel and cold to grieving and distraught. Then right back to cruel.

"Why the funeral? He knows there will be hundreds of Persian soldiers there!"

"He wishes to speak with your uncle. He wants to prove his innocence. Is anyone else thirsty?" Amani said dismissively, turning towards the rest of the cavalry.

"This is good then." began Bijan, "We're already headed in Avrat's general direction. If we keep up at this pace, we should reach the city in about five days. I doubt Prince Dastan is traveling any faster." The men all nodded in agreement.

"That is," piped Amani, "if nobody turns him in first. King Tus is offering quite the reward."

Garsiv furrowed his eyebrows. "My brother wants to see Dastan brought to justice."

"Yes, he's got the whole of Persia searching. Even in the Valley of the Slaves, they've gone crazy. Why even Sheik Amar-"

"Did you say the Valley of the Slaves?" interrupted Garsiv, staring at her with disbelief, "You come from there?"

"No, oh _Noble Prince Garsiv_," she began sarcastically, "I was just taking a leisurely stroll through the desert, not escaping or anything like that." The group was silent. "As I was saying, I don't quite understand the need for an entire cavalry searching for Dastan, what with the entire land looking to capture him."

She started to say something else, but Garsiv spoke over her. "It's a priority that we find him as soon as possible." he said as if she were a school child and he was her teacher.

"More important than attending your own father's funeral?" Amani retorted. They both stood frozen in place, each on either side of the fire. Garsiv's eyes flickered with grief once more before he shook his head and took a seat beside Bijan. The cavalry stayed silent, staring into the fire. Amani examined them all, each of their faces. Twenty different men, all with the same expression.

"After blood and not mourning your loss. Typical Persians." She said coldly, and with that, she stormed off to her tent.

**So what do you think? I kind of laughed at the fact at the fact that Amani and Garsiv were having that entire conversation in front of the entire cavalry...awkward. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and I can't wait to read your reviews! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**So here's Chapter 4; the longest so far! I wrote a small bit of this chapter from Garsiv's POV, so let me know what you think about that in your review. This chapter, as promised, has a lot more action in it. :) **

Amani woke up the next morning at dawn, silvery-blue light shining into her tent. She brushed her hair out with her fingers and stepped outside. Nobody else seemed to be up yet, so she reached into the cloth sack Bijan had given her and pulled out a plump red apple. She trudged through the sand to where the horses were all tied up, planning to give the apple to Arya. As she examined the group of horses more closely, she realized that one was missing.

The tallest one. The jet-black stallion.

Amani's first instinct was to wake up the Bijan or the young soldier who always seemed to be by his side. They seemed the closest to the horses. Instead, she decided to search around for a while.

Taking the apple with her, she surveyed the entire camp, but there was really nowhere to hide in the middle of the desert. Figuring the stallion had most likely run off in the middle of the night and was far away by now, she gave up hope. Whoever that horse belonged to would just take the other spare; but was a shame. That particular stallion was beautiful, in Amani's opinion, at least.

That's when she heard it. The distinct whinny of a steed was coming from just beyond one of the taller dunes by the camp. Quietly, Amani made her way up the dune. Staring down from the top, what she saw truly surprised her.

Garsiv was petting the horse, his horse, Amani now remembered. He was stroking the stallion softly, carefully. He looked like it as if it were some kind of treasure. It shook some sand off of its mane and Garsiv laughed, patting its back. He said something to the horse that Amani couldn't make out. She thought, the prince looked at his horse like Sheik Amar looked at his ostriches, only in a less creepy way.

She didn't know why, but Amani kept on watching Garsiv and his horse. It was like watching two best friends, they both looked so happy. It was the first time Amani had seen the prince without his armor on, just a simple tunic. Heck, it was the first time she had seen him smile.

Slowly, the sun rose behind the camp, casting a long shadow in front of Amani. Garsiv must have noticed the shadow, as he looked up in her direction. It was to late to see her, though, for she had already begun down the dune. She stood at the bottom for a moment, thinking. For an unfeeling Persian, he loved his horse.

As she stepped back into her tent, Amani noticed something that had not been there before. Placed on top of the small blanked she had slept under was a small, silver knife. Gingerly, she picked it up. It was sharp. Had someone come into her tent? Was someone else awake?

"Wakey, wakey, your girly-ness!" called the playful voice of Bijan. Amani excited the tent again to find that most of the cavalry had woken up simultaneously, making it look like she had slept in. Garsiv had since tied up his horse and now dawned his armor as he stood to address the men, and her, evidently.

Garsiv didn't speak, though. He just nodded to the young, feeble soldier who had told Amani the name of her horse. "Milad," he said, signaling for the boy to speak.

The soldier's voice was younger and more high-pitched than the rest of the horsemen. "Alright, men," he coughed, "oh, and...woman. Sorry." Amani fought back a smile; the kid was really nervous. "Um, we're heading into dangerous territory today. There's a lot of thieves and bandits around this part of the desert, so make sure you have your weapons with you at all times." And then he quickly looked at Amani and gave her a knowing nod. This baffled her. Milad was the one to sneak the knife into her tent?

Garsiv came up and patted Milad on the back. "Okay, let's move out!" he declared, signaling the men to mount their horses.

Amani found Arya and climbed onto her back, still thinking about Milad's act of, well...kindness. The only thing she had had as a weapon was the broken serving tray, and that was hardly even a weapon at all.

Arya whinnied and neighed, ready to storm ahead.

* * *

Bijan's horse came up to Garsiv's right side, where he always rode. The two lead the cavalry in the direction of Avrat. "Beautiful morning for riding, eh?" piped Bijan, always trying to give an optimistic feeling to the long journeys the cavalry took.

Garsiv smiled and nodded. "Milad almost fainted addressing the cavalry." The young soldier was the newest addition to the team, always eager but ever shy. Most of the horsemen took to teasing him, but Garsiv considered Milad to be an asset; for he knew his way around the desert pretty well, and was a terrific navigator.

"He's taken quite a liking to our newest soldier," said Bijan, referring to Amani.

"Yeah, because who wouldn't want to be pushed around day and night by a whiny, know-it-all, selfish peasant from the Valley of the Slaves?" Garsiv said sarcastically.

"Aren't you in the least bit grateful? She's leading you to your brother, after all."

Garsiv shook his head, his expression suddenly darkening. "Dastan is no brother of mine." In all the years they spent together, Garsiv had trusted Dastan. Now, he didn't know why he had been so stupid. Stupid enough to trust some greedy street rabble that his father plucked up from the streets. Garsiv wasn't going to stop until Dastan repaid his debt.

Bijan and Garsiv remained silent until they saw Amani and her horse Arya galloping up towards the front of the cavalry. "We have to run! They're chasing us!" she shouted to Garsiv.

"Who's chasing us?" demanded Garsiv. This was probably some childish trick of hers.

"Ngbaka!" Amani cried. Garsiv was about to ask who in the world the Ngbaka were, but he didn't need to. A sharp blade flew directly between his horse and Amani's.

Knife throwers.

* * *

With the Ngbaka hot on their trail, the cavalry picked up speed, but it was no use. Amani knew better than anyone that the knife thrower's aim was true, and that they could kill you from a mile away.

Amani rode beside Garsiv and Bijan at the head of the group, leading the others in various zigzags and odd patters in order to shake the pursuers, but it was no use.

That's when one knife struck a soldier in the small of his back. He fell to the desert floor immediately, his horse running off away from the cavalry. The next throw was not as deadly, simply skimming the ear of Milad. He howled in pain but Amani knew he would be alright.

The cavalry kept on riding at top speed, not knowing what else to do to lose the Ngbaka. Men and hollering and horses neighing in terrible fright. The stallions were kicking up sand as they ran, so it was difficult to see. Only the three riders in front had a clear view of where they were going.

Amani heard the foreign yells and calls of the Ngbaka, and knew they were gaining closer.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Arya was hit. The horse made a pathetic, terrible noise, like the sound of a baby drowning. The stallions leg's gave way, and Amani was sure she was going down with her steed; but Garsiv grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up to the back of his horse. Amani sat in disbelief for a second. Amani's horse, her beloved friend, was dead. And Garsiv had saved Amani from dying as well. It was a bit much to comprehend.

Quickly, before Arya's body was left behind, Amani pulled the knife that had killed her out of her back. Tears filling her eyes, she turned to the Ngbaka, who were gaining closer still.

"What are you doing?" shouted Garsiv, who was hard to hear above the screams and yells of the other men.

"There's one Ngbaka carrying all the knives for the others! If I get him down; it'll stall them and we can get away!" Amani hollered back.

"Are you crazy? You won't be able to throw that knife accurately at that man!"

"No, but I'll be able to hit his horse." she replied simply, thrusting the knife into the air. It zoomed right to its target, where it struck the knife-holder's horse square in the chest. The horse went down, as well as its rider. The cavalry was sure they had one, but Seso still had one more knife to throw.

It hurdled past the men, to the front of the cavalry. The blade flew centimeters from Amani's chest, causing her to waver and slip of the horse. Garsiv caught Amani by her waist, seemingly surprised at his own actions. They locked eyes for a moment before he puller back up onto his steed.

With the Ngbaka lost, the cavalry kept riding for a while so as to ensure their safety. Finally, they pulled over and dismounted their horses.

It was time to assess the damage.

**Okay, so that was kind of sad. I really hated the idea of Amani losing her horse, but it kind of had to be done. Let me know what you thought of Garsiv's POV as well as the action sequence towards the end. I look forward to hearing your opinion! :D **


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so this is Chapter 5. This chapter was really hard to write, especially the last bit, which is from Garsiv's POV. I don't think it's one of my best...please feel free to give me some constructive criticism in your review. This is one of those chapters that had to get written to move the story along, but probably isn't that great a chapter. Even so, I hope you enjoy it! **

The cavalry set up camp again; not able to keep moving with the injuries they sustained. Four men had been killed; about nine had been injured. Milad had half of his ear chopped off; and that wasn't the worst injury, not by far. Amani was helping clean and bandage the wounds, but she couldn't take her mind off of Arya. Not only had the deadly blade that killed the brave stallion been only inches away from Amani; but Amani would have been trampled by the rest of the cavalry if she had gone down with Arya. If Garsiv hadn't saved her.

She probably should thank the prince, she thought. But no, he had owed her for her information. It was the least he could have done.

"Amani, we need more bandages for Kaysar. He's bleeding out." called Bijan, bringing her back from her thoughts. Amani rushed over to Kaysar, who was shedding blood like crazy.

"Hey, buddy," she whispered, slowly beginning to clean his wounds.

"Knives are sharp...bad..." he managed, forcing a faint smile. Amani wrapped a bandage around his wounded arm. Milad came and sat down beside her. His bad ear was on the other side of his head, so Amani didn't have to look at it. Thank God. Rendering people injured was easy; watching the people be injured was completely different.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, continuing to work on Kaysar.

"Pretty well. Some knife throwers, those Baka people are."

Amani snickered. "_Ng_baka, Milad. Best to know the name of your enemies." She felt Milad's eyes drilling holes into the side of her head. She wanted him to stop looking at her; it was making her uncomfortable. "Milad," she began, turning towards him for the first time, "can you finish bandaging Kaysar?" he nodded obediently and followed her orders. It was almost pathetic, she thought.

She joined Bijan and the rest of the uninjured cavalry by the fire; all of them silent and solemn. The desert night was especially dark, cold, and almost frightening with the ominous smell of blood in the air. Bijan must have noticed Amani's sickened look.

"Their injuries aren't terrible. Not fatal, at least. Most of them can still ride." he said, reassuring her.

"It just...surprises me that you Persians even bleed." she half-joked. Garsiv approached the group, his expression grim.

"This your fault." he spat at Amani. She stood up, shocked at the accusation.

"_My fault?_ How in the world is this my fault? If you recall; I'm the one that shot down that one horse; allowing us to get away. You should be thanking me, if anything!"

"You've stalled us to much. We've lost precious time. We could have avoided this entire attack if you never joined us!"

"You'd be wandering aimlessly around the desert if I hadn't joined you!" her nostrils flared with anger. How dare he accuse her? He was acting as if _she_ had murdered those four men.

"I should have known better that to let some peasant join my cavalry." Garsiv said to no one in particular. This made Amani angrier still.

"You couldn't dictate this. You shouldn't be blaming anything but fate. You're not king, oh _Noble Prince Garsiv; _you should stop trying to act like your dead father!" she screamed at him. He drew his sword, but Amani was just as fast with her knife. They held the blades at each others necks, each holding an expression of pure hatred.

"Whoa there, you two," intervened Bijan, stepping between Garsiv and Amani. They lowered their weapons, staring at the sand around their feet. "You have no idea how happy I'll be once this whole thing is over." the soldier sighed before walking off to his tent. The other horsemen followed suit, leaving Garsiv and Amani by the fire.

Amani crossed her arms. "Thank you." she whispered.

"What?" he demanded, his eyes leaving the ground, looking at her again.

"For saving my life. Thanks."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what you would think it would, stupid Persian! I'm thanking you for saving me, so can you please just tell me I'm welcome and let it go?" she exclaimed.

"If my men and I are such stupid Persians, why did you give us the information leading to Dastan?" he retorted angrily. He shouldn't be offended, Amani thought, he was just stubborn.

"I'm wondering the same thing," she answered, quietly, "I don't think Prince Dastan murdered the king, you know."

"How could you think that? Dastan is a traitor, a murderer, an enemy of Persia-"

"He's your brother." she interrupted.

* * *

Garsiv's fury raged like the fire. Was Amani really foolish enough to defend Dastan? That cold-blooded murderer...he was ten times worse than the "filthy Persians" she spoke of so often. Amani was a lot of things (annoying, whiny, hot-headed, just to name a few), but Garsiv didn't think she was foolish. Not until now, anyway. He had truly wanted to kill her with his sword; but as a Persian soldier he would not kill a civilian. Not even one from the Valley of the Slaves. Not even one as pompous as Amani. "Dastan is no brother of mine. Not any longer." he continued. He had been repeating this sentence over and over in his head the past few days, but the words sounded foreign on his lips.

Amani shook her head. "You have no idea how idiotic you sound in denial. If you pursue your brother like this, it makes _you _the murderer." she spat at him. That's when he struck her across the face. He didn't mean to, not really, it just happened. She held her hand to her cheek as she ran away to her tent.

Garsiv stayed with the fire for a bit before kneeling down and looking to the sky.

He prayed to his father for forgiveness.

**So there you have it. Not my best work. Still, I look forward to reading your review and I promise the next chapter will be an improvement! **

**P.S. I was listening to "Just a Little Faster" by There for Tomorrow while I was writing this chapter, to kind of get into the angry mode. It's really a great song :) **


	6. Chapter 6

**In response to a few of the reviews: Yes, Garsiv does have a wife (or two, I haven't decided yet) from diplomatic marriages, but that will come into the story later on. Also, he and Amani are going to start to open up to each other more in this chapter. I think it's about time! Anyway, enjoy the chapter! :)**

The sun rose agonizingly slow the next morning. Amani wanted to get up. She wanted to get to Avrat as soon as possible so she could be rid of this whole pathetic cavalry and get on with her life.

Amani examined her reflection in the broken serving tray. Her hair was disheveled, the expression on her face blank and lifeless. Her right cheek was red from where Garsiv had struck her. The whole thing was a blur of events; Garsiv yelling at her, her yelling at Garsiv, and then he just hit her. Just like Sheik Amar used to do to all of the ostrich girls when they misbehaved. It wasn't her place to complain, though, it was her place to act. Persians will be Persians, she thought.

Finally, the sun peaked out from the horizon, causing the rest of the horsemen to wake up. Amani exited her tent, expecting to see Arya waiting for her, but no. Arya was dead. Already, Amani was regretting joining the cavalry in the first place.

"Amani!" called a voice behind her. She turned and saw Milad walking towards her. "Did you like the little gift I left you yesterday morning?" he asked as he stood next to her. Amani was at least two inches taller than him, and obviously a few years older.

She smiled for a moment, thinking about the knife she found in her tent. "That was you! I knew it!" Milad looked ecstatic.

"I'm glad you liked it. You looked like you needed a good weapon. It was my father's."

Amani stared at him. "You gave me your father's knife?"

"Yeah!" he piped enthusiastically, smiling from year to year. "He left it to me when he died."

Again, she looked at him with disbelief. "And why would you do that? Don't be an idiot!" she scolded him, reaching into her sack she searched for the knife. Milad grabbed her hand and held it tight.

"It's my gift to you." he said softly. She jerked her hand away from his.

"No!" Amani shouted, backing away from the boy. Who did he think he was? What was with these Persians, thinking they could have whatever they wanted?

"Amani..." he began, taking a step towards her.

"Get away from me!" she screamed, but Milad wouldn't stop. He came closer to her, so Amani did what the ostrich girls were taught to do when a guest of the races came too near to them; she punched him in the nose.

Milad shrieked in pain, cupping his nose in his hand. Bijan and the rest of the cavalry, or, what was left of it after the Ngbaka attack, rushed over. Seeing that Milad had been hurt by Amani, they all gave her a look of pure disgust. Amani didn't blame them; the poor soldier had lost half of his ear just yesterday, but she had acted purely of defense, she thought.

"What's going on?" boomed Garsiv, walking over to the group.

"Amani punched Milad in the nose!" cried one of the horsemen. Garsiv stared at her with disbelief. Amani scoffed; they treated Milad like a little puppy. If he was going to be a good soldier; he would need to learn to take a hit or two.

"How dare you strike one of my men?" he demanded. Amani thought to herself: _how dare you strike me?_ But she was not in the mood to shout again.

"Garsiv; take your hand off your sword." she said flatly. The prince always gripped the hilt of his sword when he was angry at her. They locked eyes for a moment, neither showing any expression, and then set off to prepare for the day.

Fortunately, the punch did not break Milad's nose. It bled for a awhile, but he was fine in a matter of minutes. The cavalry prepared to start riding again. Amani didn't have Arya, but there were plenty of spare horse left from the attack that didn't have soldiers to ride them, so she mounted one of those.

The cavalry set forth, covering a lot of land that day on the way to Avrat. Amani's face still stung from last night; but she figured it would sting until she was rid of these people anyway, so she ignored it. Every time Amani thought she saw the faint silhouette of Avrat in the distance, it turned out to be a mirage. The group was running out of water quickly and would need to find an oasis soon if they were to remain supplied. Finally, by some fortunate stroke of fate, Milad spotted one.

As the cavalry approached the patch of fertile land, they were pleased to discover that it was real; not a mirage. They quickly regretted it.

A group of about six men carrying rather large weapons was drinking out of the oasis' small pond of shining blue water. Amani knew their kind; bandits. Groups of them came through the Valley every now and again. Sometimes you could just be rid of them by handing them a piece of bread or a cup of milk; but sometimes they were ruthless and wouldn't leave you alone until they took all of your possesions. Amani doubted any of these soft Persians knew how to deal with them.

But then the men turned; and Amani didn't see them as bandits anymore. She didn't know what they were. Garsiv was standing beside her; he whispered to no one in particular, "I know those men."

Amani turned to him. "What?" she whisper-shouted. He shook his head.

Gripping his sword, he answered her, "My father banished them from the kingdom years ago. I was at the trial; I'd recognize those face anywhere." Garsiv gripped his sword tightly by the hilt, his knuckles turning white. Obviously these men had done something terrible, for the prince's voice was tinged with anguish. The men wasted no time in attacking. They pulled out there weapons and ambushed the cavalry, who in turn had no other option but to fight back.

Amani took out her knife and began dueling with a rather large man wielding an ax. She wasn't nearly as experienced as the rest of the soldiers, but she was agile. She could dodge the man's heavy swings of the ax. She flipped over her knife, gripping the blade gingerly. Amani struck the man over the with the hilt of the knife and knocked him out cold. She turned around to see that the battle was still raging. She ran over to help Bijan fend off a tall, lanky attacker swinging a mace around wildly.

* * *

Garsiv whipped his sword around madly, aiming to kill each and every man who had attacked his cavalry. He didn't want to see any of them get out alive. The prince was helping Milad fend off one of the attackers, the young boy fighting only with a dull dagger. Garsiv thought angrily to himself, the kid was a terrific navigator, but he was worthless in a fight. Together, though, they took the man down. Garsiv planned on staying with Milad for the remainder of the battle until he heard a distinctive cry behind him.

Amani had helped Bijan defeat the man with the mace, but had moved on to an attacker at least twice her size. He was too big for her, thought Garsiv. He was overpowering her. Amani was going to need help fast if she wanted to make it out of the bout. But Garsiv couldn't leave Milad. He couldn't leave Milad...but Amani needed help. For a second, Garsiv froze, unaware for the first time in a battle of what to do. Suddenly, he heard Amani's scream again and impulsively raced to her side.

* * *

Amani had tried to take on an opponent the size of a mountain. She immediately regretted this decision. The man was a giant, wielding a club four times the size of her knife. She was sure she was done for; finished by a foolish error in judgment. And then Garsiv came to her side. He jabbed his sword into the chest of the man; letting him fall to the ground. Amani stared at him in disbelief; he had saved her...again? She shook the thought out of her head for now, focusing on the battle at hand. Garsiv and Amani stood idle for a moment before they heard an ear splitting wail coming from just outside their range of view.

* * *

Milad had been stabbed in the stomach by the man Garsiv had left him to deal with by himself. No, Garsiv thought to himself; no, how could he be so foolish? Why had he left the young soldier to defeat the attacker all by himself. Why hadn't he protected him?

Garsiv charged towards the man who had stabbed Milad, anger radiating through every bone in his body. Before he could reach the demon, Bijan shot the man in the back with a bow and arrow. The attacker collapsed, ending the battle. The cavalry had defeated the entire group of traitors; men Garsiv thought he would never have to see again in his lifetime. He tilted his head and saw that Amani was trying to tent to Milad's wounds, but he knew it would be no use. Fate would not let the young soldier live today, and it was all Garsiv's fault.

* * *

Tears streamed down Amani's face as she looked down at Milad. She didn't care much for the boy, she wouldn't sugar-coat her feelings, but it still broke her heart to see him lying there like that. So helpless. His face looked even younger, even more innocent than usual. Bijan came up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's best we just leave. No point in trying to clean up this mess." he whispered mournfully. Amani nodded slowly and followed him to the horses.

When she had joined the cavalry, there were twenty lively Persians riding with her, but now only seven survived, including herself. This killed her inside, because filthy Persians were not supposed to die. They were supposed to live forever in some sort of disgusting, greedy utopia, staying as far away from her as possible.

They rode away from the oasis, as far away as possible. The mission was forgotten, for that period of time, anyway. There were no thoughts of Dastan or treachery, not for Amani, anyway.

They built camp for what they hoped would be the last time before the reached Avrat. The small group of tents looked pathetic, Amani thought, not the way a mighty royal cavalry's camp was supposed to look. The sun was setting below the horizon, and Amani wanted to catch a glimpse of something remotely pretty before she went to bed for the night. She looked towards the sunset, but could only focus on Garsiv's disheveled figure standing on the top of a nearby dune, staring into nothingness. She approached him, hoping to come up with something witty or bold to say about the situation, but nothing came to mind. He spoke first.

"I let him die." he said, obviously referring to Milad. His voice was heavy and shaky. Sad.

"No, you didn't," she began softly. He shook his head.

"I could have protected him. I _should _have."

"You couldn't control what happened. Nobody could-"

Garsiv interrupted her. "Those men deserved to be tortured," he began through gritted teeth, "the should have died slow, painful deaths." He turned towards her, his eyes filled with hatred and sorrow.

Amani furrowed her eyebrows. "Why were those men banished from the kingdom?"

Garsiv stared into her eyes. "They murdered my mother."

She couldn't take it anymore. So many people; dead. She buried her face in Garsiv's chest, wrapping her arms around his back. He stood frozen for a moment, but quickly he returned the embrace, holding her in his arms. They held this position for a minute; each with their eyes closed tight.

Bijan called to them from the nearby camp. "General! Amani! A sandstorm!"

**Whew! That was definitely the longest chapter so far. Some heavy stuff in there, but the story needed a little push in that direction, I think. Let me know if you thought the rapid changes in POV were a bit much, I was just trying to capture the full effect of the battle scene. I tried a cliffhanger at the end there, but those aren't exactly my forte. I'm really excited to see what you guys have to say about this chapter; so please review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**I tried to make parts of this chapter funny...I don't think I succeeded. Regardless, this chapter does include a lot of development for Amani, and we learn the names of Garsiv's two wives (well, technically one of them isn't his wife yet, but they are engaged)! I wasn't going to put them in until later in the story, but you all sounded so interested in that particular aspect of the story. So here we go! :)**

Bijan's warning took Garsiv and Amani by surprise. They quickly broke away from their embrace, stumbling down the dune back to the camp. Amani kept her head tilted down so that her thick black hair shielded her face; which she knew was bright red. Amani's face was always bright red around Garsiv, but it was usually because of anger. She didn't know why her emotions should be any different now, other than the fact that the two hadn't been screaming at each other for the first time in what seemed like, well, every time they had been in each others presence.

The sandstorm started quickly, engulfing everything outside the small tent the entire cavalry had scrunched themselves into. Amani supposed it was normal for the men to stay like this in their bulky armor, laughing away at crude jokes as the sand swirled outside the tent, but the presence of a woman must have made the experience sufficiently awkward.

Amani found herself squished between Bijan and another soldier, their rough armor pressing into her skin. Everyone remained silent. "So, I heard Princess Tamina is pretty..." began Amani, hoping to spark some sort of conversation amongst the men, but to no avail. The soldier sitting beside Garsiv snickered, and in return was thumped in the helmet by Bijan.

The sat quietly for a few more minutes before one of the soldiers, Manelin, broke the silence. "What's the first thing you all are going to do after the mission's over?" he inquired, looking them all in the eye. The men and Amani thought about this for a minute before each giving their answers.

Bijan spoke first. "I'm going home to my family. My wife and my children." his friends smiled and patted him on the back, causing the gentle man to blush. Amani found it hard to believe that a man as kind as Bijan managed to hurt anyone in a battle.

Two of the other soldiers had wives as well. They spoke of coming home to a warm meal and good company. They spoke of their young children, running to hug their father the moment he returned. Amani could never picture Persians with families before, but somehow she could picture these particular men with families. Manelin said he would go home to his pet goat. Amani felt sad for him; the others had bright expressions on their faces when they talked about their plans.

Garsiv spoke next. "My brother will need assistance as king." he said half-jokingly. Manelin elbowed him in the ribs.

"And not to mention that lovely lady of yours." he said, raising his eyebrows up and down. He continued, " And aren't you adding on a new one soon, General?"

Amani bit her lip. "Quite the ladies' man," she taunted, "how ever did you manage to sway them both?"

Garsiv let out a single chuckle. "Kalida and Jaya are each the daughter of a noble beyond the Mediterranean. We need to keep our alliances across the sea strong." his face was beginning to glow pink. It might have been from the humidity of the tent, or might have not been. Amani couldn't be sure.

"And which one is the lucky bride to be?" Amani pestered, much to the amusement of the other men.

"Jaya." he answered quietly. Garsiv was obviously not taking the same kind of enjoyment out of the conversation as the rest of the cavalry was.

"She's only eighteen." piped Bijan, smirking.

Amani said softly, "She would have been the perfect age for Milad." the tent went silent again until one of the soldiers spoke.

"Is Kalida fond of the idea of sharing you?" he asked Garsiv, hoping to bring the lighthearted air back to the conversation. Nobody laughed this time, though.

"She knows her duty." Garsiv said, almost in a whisper.

"So how did you pick her?" questioned Amani. The soldiers broke out laughing. "What's so funny?" she demanded, offended by their mocking of her.

"How did I pick what?" returned Garsiv, still fighting off his laughter.

"Your wife. When did you meet her?"

He smirked. "Our wedding night."

Amani choked on air. "You met your bride on your _wedding night?_" Garsiv nodded. She suddenly recalled one of the older ostrich girls telling her a story of royal people acquired their spouses. They pair was expected to marry the night they met each other on most occasions, in turn sealing a treaty or stopping a war or something of that nature. "And what catastrophic event did you prevent by marrying her?"

Garsiv frowned. "We prevented a war between Persia and India." he said flatly. Amani mouthed the word _oh_.

"Well, _I _would never marry anyone I wouldn't devote myself entirely to," she began proudly, "then again, I'm not a filthy Persian." she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Bijan chuckled. "You definitely have some Persian spirit in you, missy." Amani was about to sock him in the arm before Manelin spoke up.

"I think the sand has blown over." he said. Garsiv poked his head outside the tent and then came back inside to tell the rest of the cavalry that it was safe to come out now. The group exited the crowded space, all of them stiff and all of their feet asleep. They stood stretching for a minute before Garsiv said something.

"Amani, you never told us what you're going to do at the end of the mission." he said, adjusting his armor.

She shrugged. "I suppose I'd like to murder Sheik Amar. Maybe find someone I love and marry them, just to rub my happiness in your face." she said nonchalantly. The rest of the cavalry laughed, but Garsiv merely grinned slightly. Amani regretted her words for a moment, for she had heard stories of royalty being forced to marry wretched nobles whom they hated in order to keep peace in their kingdom. She felt a twinge of sympathy, but reluctantly shook it away from her thoughts.

The rest of the men started to pack up the camp, leaving Amani alone with the prince. "I never mentioned why I'm to be married to Jaya." he mumbled.

"And why is that?"

"The armies from her nation threatened to invade all of the little farmland Persia owns. All of the families that utilize those farms would be stranded." he said. Amani was about to respond with some degrading remark about Persians, but then she thought about the stories the soldiers had told her in the tent. Perhaps Persian families were the same as all families...or close enough.

"Don't think this makes you a hero in my eyes. You're still a filthy Persian." Amani said, although they grinned at each other.

Garsiv smiled triumphantly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They continued to joke with each other before they heard one of the soldiers call from behind them. "Look! It's Avrat!"

And indeed it was. Just beyond the horizon, a small building peaked out. It had to be Avrat's tallest tower, it's most distinctive feature.

They were coming close to the journey's end.

**See what I did there with Garsiv's last line? I feel so witty...XD**

**Next chapter we get to Avrat for the king's funeral! Expect some action, some romance, some Dastan, etc. :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**So I'm going to warn you: this chapter doesn't have nearly as much action as I thought it would, though their is some. I apologize, but I promise there's going to be tons upon tons of action scenes in the chapters to come. There is some romance in here, just not "Wow I have just discovered my undying love for you!" types of things. It's more subconscious than anything really. Amani's thoughts towards Garsiv are definitely changing. Regardless of all of this, I really hope you enjoy this chapter! **

Amani was strangely excited, almost giddy, to reach Avrat. She had never been to a proper city before, although she would never let the cavalry know that. Simply coming from the Valley of the Slaves was bad enough, apparently.

The group rode through the night, though tired and groggy, to reach the city. They weren't going to risk setting up camp again. Bijan said it was because they were running low on supplies, but Amani knew as well as any of them that it was just superstition. Something disastrous always seemed to happen whenever they set up camp, honestly.

For awhile after the sandstorm, Garsiv was in a civil mood, laughing and talking with the rest of the cavalry. Now, as they approached the city where there father was to be buried and his brother was to be apprehended, he was grave and solemn. He barely said a word, other than to utter some orders to the soldiers. Amani tried to deny it, but she was worried about him. He was so focused on capturing Dastan, she didn't know how he would react to seeing the king's funeral parade.

She had a feeling his reaction wouldn't exactly be a pleasant one.

As they rode closer and closer to the city, Amani could truly examine it's beauty. Bijan had told her it was a sacred place...but she didn't think that Persians treated their sacred places like _this_. It was beautiful. Every building was gleaming and bright, bushels of plants hanging out of every window. As their horses strode through the streets proudly, the cavalry was applauded by civilians. The soldiers beamed, the strain of the mission disappearing from their faces. Even Garsiv's focused eyes softened for a minute. Amani couldn't help but laugh out loud as she blew eccentric kisses to the citizens, knowing that it probably wasn't her place to do so, but she didn't care. She waved and shouted cheerful greetings to the people whilst Bijan and Garsiv laughed at her reaction to the situation. Ostrich girls were one of the highlights of the races back at the Valley, but they were never _applauded._ Amani just loved it.

Suddenly, though, the happy scene dissolved into one of grief. Persians began to line the street, crowding around as the funeral parade ran through the city. The happiness in the eyes of the soldiers disappeared, and Amani felt guilty for seeing the event as some sort of festivity at first.

The nobles were carried past the citizens, dressed colorfully and looking exceedingly pompous. Their servants wore less extravagant garments, but they were doused in color nonetheless. Amani expected the people to start cheering for a moment, but she quickly remembered that this was not the case. This was a funeral. The faces of the civilians on the streets were streaked with tears. Mothers were holding their children close as they sobbed for their fallen king. It probably shouldn't have surprised Amani that the Persians cared so much for their rulers, not then anyway, but it still did.

The cavalry dismounted their horses. Garsiv refused to watch as his father's casket was carried though the streets. Amani didn't blame him. They stood in a group, staring at the prince for directions.

"Bijan, Amani, Manelin, you stay with the crowd. Make sure Dastan does not try to harm the civilians." he nodded to the rest of the soldiers, "Parham, Radwan, Navid, search the city for the traitors. I will find my uncle." The cavalry wasted no time. Amani, Bijan, and Manelin watched as the rest of the men ran off, leaving them with the grieving citizens. She admitted that she had wanted to pursue Dastan once they had reached the city, but she knew it wasn't her place. This was something Garsiv needed to do.

The three waited for awhile, keeping a sharp eye on the crowd. There were no signs of Dastan or the princess, but they wouldn't let their guard down. For all Amani knew, the prince could pop out from under one of the noble's fat rolls. She fought back a smile at the thought.

Suddenly, the group heard the signal. One of the soldiers had spotted the traitors.

Amani started to sprint, but Manelin caught her. "That signal isn't for us," he reminded her, "it's for the others. And there are troops in the city." Amani was about to snap back at him, but she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see Dastan running on the rooftops, about fifteen soldiers chasing after him. She had half a mind to join the chase, but Manelin kept a firm hand on her shoulder.

The chase went out of sight, leaving Amani antsy and anxious. This was _not _what she had come to Avrat to do; sit around and watch a funeral while the others chased down the traitors. Then again, she hadn't really come to Avrat to help the Persians at all, and yet she did. Suddenly, Dastan came back into view. The rest of the soldiers had given up the chase, but Garsiv was still pursuing his brother. Amani couldn't watch anymore.

"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Manelin as she backed away from him.

"We can't just let him do this alone!" the two men just stared at her. "What's the point of such a vast army if you can't help a single soldier?" she said quietly as she ran off. They didn't come after her.

It was difficult to navigate the narrow alleys an confusing streets of the city. Garsiv and Dastan had disappeared into one small building, an Amani was determined to find her.

She mad her way briskly down one dark back road before she heard a high-pitched battle cry behind her. Amani turned to see someone coming at her with a strange dagger. Amani pulled out her knife and quickly disarmed the girl, pushing her to the ground. And then the two got a good look at each other.

Amani froze. She was staring at Tamina. The princess looked equally as shocked, recognizing Amani from the ostrich races. Unsure of what to do, she eyed the dagger Tamina had been holding as it lied on the street. Tamina seemed equally confused. Amani probably could have completed half of the cavalry's mission at that very moment; but she couldn't. She helped Tamina up, not speaking quickly. "If you run fast, you can get out of the city before anyone sees you." Amani whispered. The princess didn't reply, she just gave fellow ostrich girl an extremely grateful look, picked up her dagger, and fled the scene.

Amani continued to pursue Garsiv and Dastan, figuring her way through the city with some difficulty. She finally identified the building that the two brothers had gone into, so she entered, ready to fight.

Instead, what she found was Garsiv lying on the floor of the ruddy shack, injured. He was surrounded by Parham, Radwan, and Navid. They helped him to his feet. "He got away." Garsiv choked through clenched teeth. He was seething. Amani couldn't think of anything to do but to comfort him.

"No," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. The others backed away. "He can't get far. The troops can-"

"The troops can't do anything!" he shouted at her. Amani didn't want to shout anymore.

"You're going to have him." she said plainly. Suddenly, a stout bald man burst through the door.

"Uncle..." whispered Garsiv shamefully. This must be the Nizam, thought Amani. Garsiv had mentioned him a few times.

"Come, your highness, let's get you something to eat." Nizam said, gesturing for his nephew to follow him. As the two left the building, Navid spoke up.

"Then that's it. It was an honor fighting with you men...oh, and Amani. Woman. Men and woman." he said, shaking each of their hands. Amani jerked hers away.

"What, so it's over? We haven't captured the traitors!" she exclaimed. The others looked at her, nodding their heads.

"This was the mission. We came to Avrat, we tried to apprehend them. It didn't work, but the prince will devise a new plan with his other troops." said Parham. Amani shook her head.

"No, we can't just stop! We can still catch up to them if we go fast!" she tried to sway the soldiers, but they wouldn't respond to her. She angrily stormed out of the building.

So it was over. Amani was free to do whatever she wanted now. She could murder Sheik Amar. She could find someone she loved and marry them.

Just to rub her happiness in Garsiv's face.

But the journey didn't feel done. Maybe every soldier felt like this after a mission, she thought. But no, there couldn't be this tugging feeling in the back of their minds at the end of every single expedition. She tried to search for Bijan and Manelin, but they weren't near the parade anymore, which was slowly coming to a finish.

She wandered around the streets for what felt like hours, and probably was. Avrat was like a huge maze...but nothing felt right. After a while, she spotted Radwan strolling down the road.

"Radwan!" she called, running up to the soldier. He looked surprised to see her. "Are we going to do anything?"

"_We_ don't have to." he said, happily. "Garsiv is taking Manelin and Bijan to further pursue the prince and princess. I'm going home." he walked away from her. His words implied that she should be happy about the cavalry's parting of ways. But that was just his opinion.

Milad would have wanted her to keep going, she knew he would.

Amani raced to the outskirts of the city, acting on every impulse she felt. Soon enough, she spotted three men mounting their noble-looking horses, fully dressed in armor. Ready for a mission. It was a pure stroke of fate that she found the soldiers. Like the Gods were guiding her.

She approached them quickly, so that they didn't leave without her. Bijan spotted her first. He didn't say anything, but he flashed a knowing smile. Manelin saw her next, and he spoke up. "Well look who's here."

Garsiv turned then, watching as she approached the three horses. "What are you doing here?" he asked, almost like he didn't believe she was actually standing there.

"I'm coming with you. You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?"

"My uncle has instructed me to follow Dastan to the mountains." he said, as if was informing her that the pie she was eating was filled with bugs. She shrugged.

"That's a good plan." Amani said dismissively.

Garsiv and Amani stared at each other for a minute, each waiting for the other to say something. Amani half-expected the prince to deny her, to send her back to the city. But he just nodded over to the nearby stables. "There's some good horses in there, you can pick which one you want to ride."

Although Amani's was wide and showed her teeth, and Garsiv's was small and brief, they both smiled.

***Giggles at the thought of Dastan hiding in one of the noble's fat rolls* **

**Anyway, let me know what you thought. What's your opinion on the foursome traveling together? I for one was beginning to lose track of all of those soldiers in the cavalry...XD**


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, so I've been thinking about where the story is going, and I've finally figured out what I want the ultimate end of the story to be. With this in mind, I've been thinking about writing a sequel, because the ending might disappoint a lot of you, seeing as it isn't exactly the happiest thing in the world. You can kind of guess why, if you think back to the battle at the guardian village and what happens with the Dagger fat the end the movie. So let me know what you think about that...because I have some ideas for a second installment. Of course, this current story isn't over yet! We still have a way's to go with Garsiv and Amani's relationship! So I hope you enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to leave your opinion in your review! :)**

Garsiv filled Amani in on his plan to capture Dastan as the foursome rode away from Avrat and headed towards the distant mountains.

"My uncle told me he would send reinforcements if we did not return within a week, but I doubt it will come to that. We will move quickly, probably reaching the mountains in a day or two. They only civilization up there is a small village of Alamutians. We don't know why they live up there, but there's no doubt that the princess will take Dastan there. If we can catch up with them there, they're as good as captured." he said, his tone firm and even.

Amani nodded slowly. "Why do you think they're going up there? Won't the Alamutians try to apprehend them?"

"No, they were probably working with him from the beginning. After our army invaded their holy city, they most likely wanted revenge."

Her next words came out in a near-whisper. "And why are they living up there in the first place?"

To this, Garsiv shrugged. It had taken hours to get him to stop raging on about how he had let his brother get away, and Amani didn't want to irritate him any more than absolutely necessary.

Bijan rode up next to the two, his horse whinnying happily. "It seems serene enough up in the mountains, perhaps the traitors are looking to acquire a summer home?" they all laughed, relieved that the mood was lightening.

Manelin spoke up, "So, Amani, what ever happened to your plans for murder and marriage? You sounded so keen on them...especially the murder part." Amani let out a chuckle, but didn't respond. She didn't want to regret coming with the men. She was still questioning herself as to why she passed up her chance at freedom. Regardless, she wanted to see Dastan captured. Just so these three soldiers could stop driving themselves mad. Amani wasn't worried about the traitor prince; he was put on trial he could most likely prove his innocence. Still, she was prepared to defend Dastan if she absolutely needed to. Amani wasn't particularly found of seeing one brother chop the head off of the other. She knew Garsiv was prepared to do just that.

And Tamina...Amani had let her escape back in Avrat. What was she going to do if it was up to her to apprehend the princess? Could she do it? Did she consider them friends? Amani probably shouldn't have let Tamina go...but she felt like it was the right thing to do at the time. Now she just felt like a traitor.

Garsiv noticed her silence. "Well?"

She shrugged again. "Maybe I can meet a nice Alamutian man," she looked to Bijan, "maybe he and I can build a summer home in the mountains."

Garsiv let out a laugh. "I doubt anyone from the peaceful city of Alamut would dare marry you...you're too explosive."

"_I'm_ explosive? You just spent the last three hours yelling!" The two locked eyes for a minute, each challenging the other to add to the conversation, but instead they broke out in another fit of laughter. So much laughter, thought Amani, it hadn't been like this on the way to Avrat, not in the least. She wondered why things were so different now.

"And what about you, oh _Noble Prince Garsiv, _won't your wife and your fiancee be angry that you're not coming home?" Amani continued, sitting up tall on her horse, hoping to look taller and more superior.

"Probably not; they've got enough tea parties and social gatherings at the palace to keep them busy."

Amani smiled but didn't laugh this time. "Is that what your Persians do to pass the time? Would you like me to hold your purse, ma'am?"

Garsiv didn't laugh, either. "No, the two just happen to have those dovetailing interests. They've sort of brought that sociality to Nasaf." he said, his words tinged with distaste. Amani smirked as she pictured the prince sipping tea with his two bickering wives.

"They sound lovely," she said sarcastically.

Bijan joined into the conversation. "Trust me, I've been to these 'social gatherings' these ladies through. It's all I can do to prevent Garsiv from jumping out of the window." he said with a smile. Amani admitted to herself that she would have missed the kindly soldier if she had not joined the men.

"I can just imagine." said Manelin.

Amani's smile faded a bit. "So you wish they had sent you different wives?" Garsiv nodded slightly, not showing any emotion on his face.

"Yes."

They were all silent for a moment before Amani finished the conversation, "Well, think positive, maybe by your sixth or seventh wife they'll send you one you're fond of." there was humor to her voice, but she wasn't smiling anymore. None of them were. Amani supposed they all just felt bad for Garsiv...she admitted to herself that she did. She would feel the same way if someone had forced her to marry one of the patrons of the ostrich races...she shuddered at the thought.

And so the foursome didn't speak for the next few hours, they just rode briskly side by side and kept they're eyes on the mountains, which were growing nearer and nearer every minute. Finally, the group set up camp for the night. Amani was half-expecting some Ngbaka or some outlaws to attack them at any moment, but to her relief the night was peaceful.

They set up their tiny tents, eager to get a good night's sleep. Bijan and Manelin were already snug inside their individual tents before Garsiv approached Amani. "I hope you meet that nice Alamutian man you were talking about."

Amani furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "And why is that?"

"So you can rub your happiness in my face." And with that, he disappeared into his tent.

**I know, I know...way to mushy. It's kind of a rough transition from hating each other to becoming friends...and eventually something more ;) **

**Don't forget to review! :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm gonna get it out there now: this chapter is complete and utter crap. In my opinion, anyway. I struggled with the dialogue for the longest time, took a break to write a quick oneshot, and then just grinded through the rest of the chapter. In this chapter: Amani is a bit OOC, so is Garsiv, and Manelin is a jerk. Of course, I appreciate your reviews, as always. The next chapter, I promise, will be one of the best. Trust me. :)**

Amani woke with a start the next morning, a bad dream startling her senses. She didn't remember the dream, though, so she perished the thought from her head. She realized rather quickly that she must have overslept; for the rest of the men were already up and about.

Exiting her tent, she was Garsiv, Bijan, and Manelin munching on pieces of bread. They looked up at the sight of her. "Well, look who finally decided to get up." joked Bijan, talking with his mouth full. Amani sighed and sat down beside Manelin, who handed her her own slice of bread. She munched on it slowly, savoring every bite, for she knew they had a long journey ahead of them today.

"It's hotter than usual this morning," noted Manelin, swallowing loudly.

Garsiv nodded in agreement. "If we get moving soon, we'll be able to reach the mountains by tomorrow morning." and so they finished their meal quickly, and then packed up camp. Amani took down her tent sloppily, but quickly. Manelin approached her.

"So, Amani, what exactly was your occupation back in the Valley of the Slaves?" he asked her, making her stand up straight, a confused look in her eye.

"What kind of question is that?" she inquired, staring at him pointedly.

"Well-I just...I didn't know what people did there."

"What we do there? We do this thing called _living_...it's rather odd but I like it." she snapped back. Garsiv could hear an angered edge to her voice in addition to the sarcasm.

"I would imagine that you give your master a heap of grief-"

"My _master?_ You think I work as a _slave?_" she shouted, obviously offended by the stereotype.

"Well, I mean, it was sort of implied-"

"Yes, I know, but that's not at all what happens in the Valley. I worked as a...a server. A waitress, if you will."

Garsiv thought back to the first time the cavalry had encountered Amani, and the revealing garment she had been wearing. "A waitress that has to exploit herself to her customers? We don't have things like that in Nasaf..." he joked, but Amani took this seriously.

"I'm held in the highest of respects in the Valley, thank your very much, so you can come off it now." Garsiv knew when to stop pestering her, but Manelin did not, evidently.

"There's no use in lying about it...I've come to accept your murderous tendencies." he said with a smile, seemingly trying to make pleasant conversation. Amani stared at him with disbelief.

"Tell me exactly what you think happens in the Valley of the Slaves." she demanded, narrowing her eyes. Garsiv knew she wouldn't take much more of Manelin's stereotypes.

"I think your forced to wear revealing clothing and serve undesirable people. I think you would resist, but you would be murdered if you did." Amani stood frozen, doing all she could to keep tears from forming in her eyes. Manelin's interpretation was definitely inaccurate, but it had some truth to it. She knew that Sheik Amar would waste no time in making her into ostrich food if she didn't behave. She was about to retort, but Garsiv cut in.

"You should know not to speak to a woman like that, soldier!" boomed Garsiv, stepping in front of Amani. Manelin looked over the prince's shoulder at the girl standing behind him. He raised his eyebrows.

He smirked at Garsiv. "You should stop trying to speak like your father." he spat, turning and leaving to mount his horse. Bijan followed him, not saying a word, though his eyes were sympathetic.

Garsiv turned towards Amani. Her face was impossible to read; she didn't show any emotion. He was about to speak, but she acted first. Without saying a word, Amani walked up to him and softly kissed Garsiv on the cheek, before running away. She ran straight up to Manelin; and slapped him. The prince and Bijan laughed at the sight, but Garsiv was still caught off guard. Amani had never been that close to him...her smell surrounded him. She smelled like blackberries and smoke, and he couldn't decide if he liked it or not.

He put his helmet on, though he didn't really need it. He wanted to mask the redness of his face as he and Amani mounted their horses. The foursome was off again, heading closer and closer to the mountains.

Amani glanced over at Garsiv briefly, trying to catch his expression. She hadn't meant to kiss him...not really. She just didn't want to say sorry. She couldn't have spoken without starting to cry. Despite her jokes about her time in the Valley, she truly dreaded the place. It was a relief to be in the wide, empty desert; not some crowded racetrack with men screaming and yelling at her to hand them a drink. Manelin shouldn't have been such a downright idiot. And how could he talk to a prince like that? Shouldn't he have had the utmost respect for his general? These thoughts ran through Amani's head as the day dragged on. She had tried to keep talk of the deceased king to a minimum, for Garsiv's sake. Manelin had brought him up again. Amani wondered why she even bothered worrying about the prince...but she knew that if he was overcome with grief, he wouldn't be able to complete his mission. And that would completely destroy him.

Bijan rode his horse up next to Amani's. He whispered to her, "You left quite the mark on Manelin's face, missy." he scolded her mockingly, a smile on her face.

"If he had any humility, he wouldn't have kept on about the Valley. I'm finished with that place." she said, sitting up straight.

"And I'm sure its finished with you. Let's just focus on the journey at hand." The two shared a smile and turned towards the mountains.

**So let me know what you thought...but keep bashing to a minimum please :)**

**Next chapter will probably be either the second or third to last. Which means it's decision time! Do you guys want _a) _a sequel to this story, _b) _a Dastan/Tamina fic, or _c) _a completely new PoP pairing fic! I may be able to take on two of these stories at once...but I'm going to leave that up to you guys. Don't forget to review! :D (I sometimes get the feeling that I overuse emoticons...eh, whatever.)**


	11. Chapter 11

**One of my anonymous reviewers verbalized exactly what I was feeling about last chapter: it was like a bad hair day. I actually re-wrote the chapter (or parts of it) a couple of times, but nothing felt right, and so I uploaded the closest thing I could get. I don't have the name of the reviewer in front of me, but I wanted to say thank you because your review was really helpful. Thanks! :D **

**This chapter is hopefully a lot better; I think you'll enjoy it. Once again, Manelin is being a big jerk-face (thats right: I just dropped a "jerk face". SNAP!), and there's a big sort of "climactic" moment towards the end of this chapter. Next chapter is going to be the last; but you guys all voted and you were pretty much (if not definitely) unanimous in your decision...so I'm going to be writing a sequel! I've decided that the title is going to be "Horse Boy", yay! **

Garsiv didn't speak to Manelin the rest of the morning. Amani didn't either...but Garsiv was giving him the "silent treatment" that you give as a five year old. One of those, "Bijan, tell Manelin he has to pick up the pace if we're going to reach the mountains by tomorrow morning." silent treatments. This wasn't like Garsiv, which made it all the more hilarious for Amani. Of course, she guessed Garsiv didn't see it as a joke. He was growing more and more dead serious with every step their horse's took to reach the mountains. No doubt he was preparing himself for his encounter with his father's murderer.

Around midday, Garsiv addressed the foursome. "Alright, once we get to the village, you'll all make sure the Alamutians stay calm and don't pose as a threat. Keep them in their houses if you can. Leave Dastan to me." he spoke through clenched teeth, his voice sharp and direct. He's losing his mind, thought Amani, he's even got his helmet on. Why would he need his helmet now?

"What about Tamina? Amani piped up, looking from Garsiv to Bijan and then back again.

"What about her?" asked the prince.

"Well, shouldn't we apprehend her? She's the Alamutian princess, after all. She's been working with Dastan."

"Bijan can capture her." he said plainly, as if he didn't really care. Then again, he probably didn't. He just wanted to see Dastan be brought to justice.

Finally, the sun began to set, and the foursome set up camp for the very last time. There was a sort of nostalgia in the air, but Amani tried not to think about it. She already felt idiotic for getting attached to this cavalry in the first place. Still, as she sat around the fire for the last time, she couldn't help but know that once she was on her own...she would miss this. Amani didn't know why; these three men were filthy Persians. Perhaps not so filthy anymore...but still Persians.

The one thing she knew she would absolutely not miss was the squabbling between the men around the fire. She had always found it humorous before, but now Garsiv was utterly furious. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, soldier?" he demanded of Manelin, who in turn stood up from his sitting position.

"No, and I shouldn't have to! You're the one who's unraveling right in front of us, your Highness." he said the last two words with particular disgust. Amani wondered why Manelin was acting this way. He had always been so quiet.

"I'm focused on our mission! As part of the Persian army, you should be too."

"Our mission is to apprehend your brother, Garsiv, and you're prepared to kill him. Why so much killing? Why do you need to kill everyone just for your pathetic revenge?"

Garsiv shook his head. "I've only killed when absolutely necessary. Dastan committed high treason, and this is the penalty."

Amani spoke up then. "I thought King Tus was putting Dastan on trial!" she said in disbelief. Was Garsiv really planning to kill his own brother?

Manelin chuckled, "See? It's typical that you're so keen on spilling blood. You're nothing like your father, you know that? He would be disgraced." Amani and Bijan stood up abruptly. They both knew that Manelin had crossed the line. Amani expected Garsiv to draw his blade, but instead he stormed off to his tent. The three stood frozen around the fire for a minute before Amani decided to follow him.

She entered his tent, which was so much warmer than the air outside. He sat with his back facing her, because there was no room to stand. "Why didn't you tell us you were going murder Dastan?" she blurted out, not knowing why she really cared in the first place.

Garsiv didn't answer. He continued to stare at the back of the tent. So Amani continued, "That wasn't your plan, originally. Tell me what changed."

He turned slightly. "My uncle believes this is the best way. Dastan may try to stir a rebellion in the empire if he's put on trial." She sighed, and then sat down next to him.

"You're welcome to chop Manelin's head of now, if you want. I mean, your already in the killing mood, I guess."

He smiled, "I suppose. But killing him would only mean that he's right. My father would be disgraced." his tone was suddenly grave. Amani jerked her head in his direction.

"You can't honestly believe that! Your father wouldn't be angry at you...he'd even be proud of you. You've helped your brother, your uncle, you even killed your mother's murderers!" The last bit came out unexpectedly, and Amani regretted saying it. Garsiv stared at the ground.

Quietly, he said, "There we go with the killing again." He suddenly pounded his fist on the ground, then turned towards Amani. "I didn't just kill, I _let_ people die. What about Milad? All those men we lost in the Ngbaka attack? My father told me so many times that it was my duty to leave no man unaccounted for!"

"You had no control of that! You had no control over any of this! Manelin is messing with your head; you're not unraveling, you just think you are." He began to speak again, going on about how he could have prevented so many deaths, which Amani knew he couldn't. She was shaking her head, watching as he went on about Arya, her horse, and how she didn't have to die. The Ngbaka _ambushed _the cavalry, and there had been no way to avoid them.

Amani couldn't think of anyway to get him to stop talking other than to place her lips on his, kissing him. She half-expected him to pull away and slap her for the second time, but he didn't. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, making their kiss deeper. She gripped his shoulder, feeling much warmer than the desert night had allowed her to be in days. The two let their kiss linger for a moment before pulling away, remaining close to each other. "You should give me some forewarning," he whispered, "next time."

Amani smiled. "I will, next time." and with that, she left the tent and went to hers, curling up on the sand and going to sleep.

_Next time, _she repeated over and over in her head.

**I hope you guys said "aww!"! It took me forever to get the kiss just right...I didn't want to make it too "make-out-y" but I didn't want it to be just a little peck. Let me know what you thought in the reviews! :D**


	12. An Explanation

****

...Hey guys. I know, I know. It's been forever. I promised you the final chapter of Ostrich Girl in June or July, didn't I? I want to start by saying that I'm so, so, so, so, SO sorry. A week or so after I started working on the last chapter of the story, some personal real-life stuff came up and I haven't really been able to work on it since. Still, it

**_will _****be up (probably by this Saturday), now that I can actually work on fanfics again. Once again, I am incredibly sorry for making you all wait this long. I was so surprised when I read my email for the first time since I kind of disappeared and I still had ****_so_**** many reviews and alerts; way more than I ever expected for my first fanfic ever. You guys are amazing, really, and I hope that the final chapter of the story will be worth the wait. You all really deserve it. **

**In the meantime, as a sort of apology gift and as something to tide you over until the chapter is up, I now present to you...*drumroll*...a sneak preview of the chapter! I know that it isn't much, but I needed to give you guys ****_something _****or else I think the Guilt Monster would eat my arms or something. Anyway, here it is, and I hope you enjoy! (P.S. This is completely unedited, so everything is subject to change before I upload the official chapter. It's happened before.) xD**

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The next morning, everything finally sank in. Amani couldn't believe that this was it. This was the day that everything went down; Garsiv would bring Dastan to justice, and the journey would be over.

Until next time. Amani smirked inside her tent, thinking about what _next time_ would be like. She scolded herself, though, for that wasn't the kind of thing she should be thinking of at the moment. It really shouldn't have been the kind of thing she thought of _ever, _but she couldn't help but like the idea of Garsiv waiting for her after the battle, and she would actually be happy to see him this time.

_Shut up,_ she told herself, shaking her head as if to knock the thoughts out of her mind. _Battle. _She had to be ready for battle.

Bijan approached her as the team packed up. His bright smile had not seemed to waver at all throughout their journey. "So, we are approaching the end."

"The real end this time." Amani agreed.

"Have you thought of where you'll go when this is all over?" he asked. His voice was kind, but Amani could hear the worry underneath his tone.

"If I had that figured out, would I have come with you three all the way here?" Bijan lowered his head down to his feet. "No, I don't know where I'll go."

"If you can't find someplace," Bijan began, seemingly studying his feet intently, "There is always room for you with my family, if you just need to rest for awhile. I live in the capital city, it won't be hard to find me if you ask around."

Amani smiled. She didn't think she'd go anywhere near the capital city once this was all over, but she liked the idea of having a place to stay if she needed it. "Thank you." she said, looking down to her feet as well. Then, she reached over and gave Bijan a quick hug. She laughed a bit...because she really loved this filthy Persian.

"Let's move out!" called Garsiv.


End file.
